Dancing On My Own
by DreamersEclipse
Summary: (Post First Class) "I've always hated it." Charles said. "Hated what?" asked Erik. "Dancing on my own." Erik held out his hand expectantly to the professor. "If that's the case, then care for a partner?"


Disclaimer: I do not own any of Marvel's toys. I just like playing with them.

Warnings:….none in particular. Innuendo. Might make you cry.

Summary: (Post First Class) "I've always hated it." Charles said. "Hated what?" asked Erik. "Dancing on my own." "If that's the case, then care for a partner?" Erik held out his hand expectantly.

*Story Start*

The room looked exactly the same but at the same time it wasn't. The cherry red oak wood flooring was as pristine and touched as ever; looking as new as when he first laid eyes on it as a boy. Even the wax still gleamed- if not a little dully- on the smooth surface. A burnt red like over ripe apples colored the trim that ran the perimeter, connecting floor to wall and contrasting beautifully with the crème wallpaper adorned with golden spirals and vines as if they were veins. The heart of the room was nothing short of a glass chandelier hanging in the middle of a honey gold ceiling.

Even after all these years it was still one of the most beautiful rooms in the mansion. An unused and forgotten gem put far back on the shelf. He really did feel like a child again looking at it this way. From this angle, height, perspective, everything looked and felt so far away. Too big for him. Something broken twisted in his chest as he wheeled his way in, feeling like an ant entering a dollhouse.

Nothing had changed within the room yet everything was different. Where he used to be able to lean against the fire place and watch the mantel piece clock, now his fingers barely grazes the top rim shelf, picking up the dust that had settled there.

Where he used to be able to throw open the balcony doors with both hands how he struggled with one to hold it open for enough of his wheelchair to get a foot hold outside.

He took his time carefully circling around the room, idly recalling memories from his childhood in which the ballroom had always been this empty, this hallow. When his eyes landed on the phonograph his heart stuttered and his mind slipped into the memories he bitterly dreaded and disdainfully loved.

"_A ballroom. Why am I not surprised?"_

"_Because my family was filthy rich and a bit pretentious?"_

"_A bit you say? I bet pretty rich boy doesn't even know a simple waltz."_

"_I bet the Jewish mercenary knows even less."_

"_A baseless and rather rude assumption, Charles."_

"_As is yours." Charles lifted an eyebrow as Erik turned on the phonograph and gently put the needle down on the record. Music poured through, playing a mellow beat in a beautifully orchestrated assembly of violins and pianos._

_Erik danced in melodious wide steps until he was close enough to pull Charles into his own body, taking a firm hold of the Professor's lower back and right hand then fluidly sending them into a two-step waltz. " This Jewish mercenary as you say, has picked up many skills in his travels.'_

_Charles glared playfully at him but kept up easily with the lead's movements. A laugh escaped him as he was spun out and brought back in._

Charles felt his eyes start to burn with unshed tears. There was an ache in his lower back where once there was a warm hand holding him steady. He wheeled over to the music player and with shaky, hesitant fingers he turned it on. The same album was playing a different song, one that they danced to before as well.

"_Let me lead for once."_

"_Never. You're shorter than me and more petite, therefore you receive the role of a woman."_

"_Don't be such a facetious prick about it. Size hardly matters."_

_Erik grinned lewdly. "that's not what you were saying last night."_

"_Well I certainly hoped you enjoyed that dance of ours considering we won't be doing it again any time soon."_

"_You cannot seriously be threatening me with that, Charles. Do you think me so shallow?" Crossed arms and a raised eyebrow was his answer as silence dragged on awkwardly. "Get your ass over here and lead before I changed my mind."_

_Charles grinned up at him._

The song died and moved on to the next one. He moved his chair to the middle of the room, hot red streaks trailing down his cheeks as he felt the alien experience of his movements in a wheelchair accompanying the music instead of his own two legs carrying him across the floor.

He wondered if Erik would still want to dance with him, crippled as he was; an invalid. Would he take Charles in his arms, support his weight and gently move them even if they didn't fallow the beat?

"_I was quick to judge. You're an excellent dancer if not a little rusty."_

"_So are you…if not a little left footed."_

_Erik grinned at him. "I'm only as good as my partner."_

"_You should be spectacular then. Perhaps we are on a different par than other dancers?"_

"_That we can agree on for once, Charles."_

Charles sat in the middle of the dance floor, unmoving. Hating his legs, hating Erik, hating dancing, hating himself. Eventually the record stopped. Nothing but the squeaky high pitched running of the end of the track droning on like a siren in his ears. Tears slipped out his eyes every now and then. He would never walk again let alone dance. And Erik was gone.

"_I love dancing but I've always lacked either opportunity or a partner. Now I have both."_

"_Glad to be of such a service to you." Was Erik's slightly sardonic reply._

"_I always hated it. The loneliness and feeling like a fool doing it."_

"_Doing what?"_

"_Dancing on my own." His mind slipped into the unhappy isolation of his childhood and maybe it showed._

"_Don't do it then. Don't ever dance by yourself. Only dance when I'm there too."_

"_Is that a promise, Mr. Lehnsherr?"_

"_I don't make promises but I do make an amazing dance partner."_

_They shared a smile. "That's good enough for me."_

_A/N: This story was inspired by the song "Dancing on My Own" by Pixie Lott ft. G-Dragon and TOP. It's an amazing song. Check it out! Also, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed this little piece of Cherik love. Merry readings, all._


End file.
